


Stacy's Mom

by Dihydrogen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Not Beta Read, Objectification, Songfic, Very fleeting allusion to Sabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dihydrogen/pseuds/Dihydrogen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks fantasizing about his girlfriend's mom is the worst of his moral dilemmas until he falls head over heels for her uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stacy's Mom

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by the song Stacy's Mom by The Fountains of Wayne (if it wasn't completely obvious by the title).
> 
> As with all my other fics, this isn't beta read so I'm sorry for the countless mistakes I'm sure this is riddled with.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

 

"Stacy's mom is _hot_ ," Gabriel chirped, leaning forward to track the round swell of her bottom as she leaned over to pull something out of the trunk of her convertible. A number of the other players lounging on the bench did the same.

“Damn right,” Dean drawled, taking in the sight of her. Sleek, black hair pulled into a messy ponytail. The collar of her shirt was low and damn, she had some amazing cleavage. Her skin was colored like caramel- it’d look good having whip cream eaten off of it. Fuck, _yeah_.

“Dude. Stacy is your girlfriend,” Someone snorted.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, but her mom is still smokin’.”

There was a procession of chuckles and murmurs of agreement. Dean settled back into the bench, slouching and watching Ms. Novak petition a group of the Junior Varsity to pull boxes and tupperware containers out of the back of her car. Okay, so maybe fantasizing about your girlfriend’s mom wasn’t exactly typical ‘good boyfriend’ behavior, but he was a human being, dammit, and Stacy’s mom just had it _going on_.

And it wasn’t like he had any plans on trying to get into her pants- he was dating her daughter, after all, and she was a nice woman. She really didn’t seem to be interested in younger men, anyways. She had a thing for men with salt-and-pepper hair, or so Dean assumed. He’d only been dating Stacy for a month, but in that time her mom’s several love interests seemed to be of that particular variety.

Stacy was a like her mother in the fact that she was smoking hot, but the similarities seemed to stop there. Her hair was brown and her skin was the color of creamy coffee. She never wore her hair up except for when she was doing her cheerleading bit, and it was always done up perfectly. No loose strands, no mess. She was a bit catty at times, but had mostly good intentions.

One day, rather out of the blue, she had asked Dean to be her boyfriend. They didn’t really know each other at the time- they had only met once or twice at the odd party or two. There hadn’t been any reason to say no, however, so he said yes. Over the course of the month, Dean had begun to realize that he really didn’t know Stacy any better than he did that first day she asked him out. He felt guilty about it for a while and tried to remedy it, but it quickly became apparent that Stacy was far more interested in making out then talking. That was fine with Dean, because she was a damn great kisser.

Eventually, however, he did get her to talk. She just wanted to have a bit of fun, she said. She didn’t really want their relationship to be too serious. She had said it with trepidation, as if Dean would be mad. He wasn’t. He could dig that, he had said. After that they went back to their usual routine of making out without the excessive talking bit.

The bench trembling as someone plopped down next to him snapped Dean out of his reverie. Think of the devil. Stacy had taken the empty space next to him and was sliding in to wrap her arms around Dean’s neck. He relaxed and let her, sliding his hand onto her waist.

It was a sloppy kiss. All of their kisses were.

“Hey, Babe,” she chirped after they broke apart. Dean could see Gabriel exaggeratedly gagging behind her. Dean flipped him the finger, and nodded at Stacy. “‘Sup, Buttercup?”

She shrugged and smiled, her mouth dimpling at the corners, “Just thought I’d give you a good luck kiss, you know, before the game and all.”

“Oh please with the lies, Stacy” Gabriel jeered, though there was a good-natured tilt to his mouth, “You just wanted to get some tongue action from Dean-o, here.”

Stacy rolled her eyes, pulled away from Dean, and turned to Gabriel before exaggeratedly placing her hands on her hips. “Please, Gabby, you’d stick your tongue down his throat, too- in a _heartbeat_ if you had the chance.”

“Right you are, Chickadee, but in all fairness I’d play tongue hockey with just about anyone who gave me the opportunity,” Gabriel announced, shooting a wink to Dean, who was chuckling. “Tell that to your delicious moose of a brother, Dean-o. I’d like him to shove his tongue down my-”

“Gabe!” Dean spluttered, horrified. Gabriel just grinned and shrugged.

Stacy broke into a conspiratorial cackle at that and shared a look with Gabriel that Dean didn’t really like. He didn’t have time to say anything about it, however, as Stacy was moving off the subject, “Mom says that you’ll have to wait until Thursday to come mow the lawn. She told me why but I can’t remember,” she said to Dean, pursing her lips in thought before shrugging and giving up the effort altogether.

“Sure,” Dean said.

Soon after that, the coach came in and shooed Stacy out of the dugout so he could give the team their pre-game pep talk.

“See you Thursday,” Stacy called over her shoulder as she scuttled off, and Dean nodded and waved at her departing figure.

* * *

 

Thursday was hot and boring. Stacy had left to run to the store, which was a twenty minute drive one way, so that combined with the shopping time meant she’d probably be gone for an hour or more. Ms. Novak wasn’t home, either, so Dean didn’t even have anyone to look at and daydream about as he pushed the lawn mower in rows across the grass.

He started mowing the Novak’s lawn two weeks after he started dating Stacy. He had mentioned to Ms. Novak that he was looking for a part-time job to pick up some extra cash so he could get some maintenance done on his Impala. She had mentioned that she’d been looking for someone to mow her lawn, it would be a weekly thing, and she would pay him. So Dean said yes. Sh also offered to give him extra if he would clean the pool, but he declined that.

He’d watched too many pornos that involved lonely housewives sleeping with their poolboys, and he felt like that would be pushing his already corrupt moral uprightness completely over the edge. Best to avoid temptation altogether.

It wasn’t so bad, however, and it was a nice day, despite the fact that the heat had made his white tank top sticky with sweat. He was turning into another row when an old, banged up Lincoln pulled into the driveway. It was a car he’d never seen before.

A young man got out- his skin was pale and his hair was thick and dark and impossibly messy. He was staring at the house with squinted eyes, as if slightly confused. Dean flipped off the mower and approached the man, saying, “Uh, hi? If you’re looking for Laura Novak, she’s out right now. She should be back later today, if your business is urgent.”

The man turned his head and Dean was met with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. It was a bit startling. “Oh, I see,” the man said before he turned back to the house and frowned.

“I suppose they forgot I was coming.”

“Well uh, I’m sure they’ll be back later, Mr…?”

“Novak. Castiel Novak,” the man finished, turning his blue eyes back to Dean.

“Oh?” Dean asked, brows furrowing. Neither Stacy nor Ms. Novak had mentioned anything about a relative coming into town.

“And who are you?” Castiel asked, tilting his head and blinking in interest.

“Oh uh. Dean. Winchester. Dean Winchester. I uh, I mow the grass.” He said and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he added hastily, “And I date Stacy,” because that was probably a more important descriptor of his connection to the Novak family. Woops.

Castiel nodded, and as he did so Ms. Novak’s convertible pulled into the driveway. She was chatting on her phone as she got out of the car, and when she saw Dean standing with Castiel she froze and said, “Oh, shit. I forgot.”

Castiel nodded, “I assumed as much when I arrived and you were not here.”

She said goodbye to whoever was on the phone and broke into a grin, before stepping forward and sweeping Castiel into a hug.

“Cassie! I can’t believe I forgot about you,” she said with enthusiasm as she shook castiel in her embrace.

Castiel limply swayed with Laura’s momentum, but made no move to wrap his arms back around her. He seemed almost confused by the gesture. “Well, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. If I remember correctly, this would be the fifth time in our time knowing each other that you have forgotten about me. The first when I was in the fifth grade-”

“Yeah, yeah, Cas. You don’t have to recite it all, I remember,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

Dean watched this exchange, mildly amused and very, very confused. Laura turned to him saying, “Ah, Dean. You’ve met him already I guess, but this is my oddball brother, Castiel,”

“Step brother,” Cas supplied offhandedly.

“Technicalities,” Laura said dismissively.

“Yeah, he pulled up when I was mowing,” Dean shrugged, glancing at Castiel, who was staring intently again. Dean didn’t notice that he’d been staring back until Ms. Novak rolled her eyes and said, “Well, you can finish mowing later. You two come in and I’ll whip up some lunch.”

By the time they had all finished eating, Dean knew that Castiel was twenty-one (15 years younger than Laura, he’d mentioned, to which she’d indignantly said he was making her feel old. She popped Dean over the head when he reminded her that he was 19, which meant she was 17 years older than him.) and that he was, in fact, rather strange.

It wasn’t long before Stacy arrived home, barrelling through the door with her grocery bags swinging wildly in her hands as she raved about some bitchy cashier. She stopped mid rant, however, and let out in a voice that was still an octave too high, “Oh shit! Uncle Cas! I forgot about you!”

So maybe Stacy and her mom shared more similarities than just being smoking hot.

Castiel shrugged and said, “It is quite alright. Dean was here to receive me, even if he was not expecting a visitor.”  There was a small smile on his face as he looked at Dean. Like before he didn’t realize he’d been reciprocating the staring until Stacy cleared her throat and said, “Earth to Deaaaan.”

“Oh uh, yeah. Sorry,” he said, snapping his gaze away from Cas’. He needed to stop doing that.

“Anyways, I was saying we should go see a movie. Any movie, I don’t care which,” Stacy said while putting the grocery bags on the counter. That was Stacy code for ‘I want to make out in the back of a movie theater’.

“Actually there is a movie I’ve been wanting to see,” Dean speculated truthfully. He’d probably not get to watch it until it came out on DVD, though, because even if he went and saw it with Stacy he wouldn’t be able to divide his attention enough to enjoy it.

“Oh, nuh-uh,” Stacy’s mom said, clucking her tongue, “You and I are going down to the DMV to get your license renewed. You shouldn’t have even be driving with it expired in the first place,”

“Ma,” Stacy whined, but Laura just shook her head.

“You ought to go see that movie anyways, Dean. You can take Castiel along with you. He won’t get out of the house otherwise.”

“I just have little reason to go out normally,” Cas protested.

Dean shrugged, “Sure, man. You’re a pretty cool dude, you should come with me.”

Castiel seemed a bit surprised. “Well, okay then,” he said in a pleased tone.

* * *

 

The movie with Castiel had been great. He had seemed to enjoy it, and he and Dean discussed it afterwards for quite a while. The only other person Dean had been able to talk so freely about his opinions with was Sam.

He liked Castiel. Sure the guy had an odd habit of staring that Dean was quickly and accidentally adopting, but he was cool and over the course of the next six months Dean began hanging out with him more and more, especially after he graduated in June. Cas was staying at Laura’s house indefinitely, explaining that his mother had thrown him out after he refused to continue on in law school. Laura said she couldn’t believe their mutual father would allow her to do that.

“I want to be an artist,” Castiel had said. He seemed a bit embarrassed to show Dean his portfolio, at first, but relaxed when he figured out Dean was completely amazed.

“These- these are- just,” he paused, searching for a word, “awesome.”

Castiel snorted at the word choice but smiled. “What about you, Dean? What are you going to do?”

Dean blinked and flopped back down on the small couch in Cas’ room, “Well. Ya know, I want to work on cars. It’s not as pretty as painting,” he tossed the man a smirk, to which he received an eyeroll, “but I’m good at it. I want to restore them, specifically. Like my baby,” he crooned, thinking about the work he had recently done on the upholstery.

Castiel sat silent for a moment and said, “I think cars can be an art, Dean. I think they are for you. Your impala is beautiful. It is art, Dean. Maybe not a painting, but that doesn’t matter.”

Dean felt himself blushing- God, he was actually _blushing_. Talk about a chick flick moment. Cas was always going straight for the feelings. “Well- uh… you know. Thanks, dude.” He fidgeted awkwardly.

“I mean it Dean. And- well, I wanted to ask you if you would let me paint it. Your Impala.” Cas seemed a bit sheepish, as if he were afraid he was going to be turned down.

“Dude what? Of course you can. That would totally rock, man.”

“And… and I would like to draw you too, Dean. If you would let me.”

The flush returned. God what the fuck was going on with that? He was turning into a freaking blushing bride. “I- I don’t know, Cas.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s cool, man. I think it would probably be alright. You can draw me. If you want.”

“I do want to, Dean. You inspire me,” Castiel said with that small, exclusive smile.

When their eyes met, then, and the gaze held as it always did, Dean felt his gut twist. Those words changed something- he was hit with the sudden desire for Cas to really, truly know him. He didn't like to talk about himself or dwell on his own life- it was dangerous. He worried that if he looked too closely at himself he'd realize that he wasn't okay.

He told Cas this, it came spilling out of his mouth before he had the chance to stifle it down. And it didn't stop there. He found himself babbling about his home life- how he lived in a beat up old house that Sam said was probably built by baby boomers in the fifties, and how their dad wasn't home much, but he had work. He talked about how their mom died of a cancer that tore through her body like a wildfire when he was 9, and yeah Dean missed her but it was okay. He talked about practically raising Sammy after she died because their father developed an alcohol problem- but he was just trying to cope, you know?

He talked about how baseball had helped him cope, and how Sammy nearly burnt the house down when he tried to bake for the first time, and how one time their dad took them on a fishing trip that went completely awry (but was still enjoyable). Really- he couldn't stop the words. They just kept falling out of his mouth, like a long train of word vomit. And it felt- God, it felt so good to just talk about all of it.

And telling it to _Castiel_? Yeah. That was the best part, because he actually listened. He seemed surprised when Dean started, but after he realized what was happening he sat down and nodded at the stories, sometimes providing anecdotes of his own.

“I went fishing once, Dean, when I was nine or so. Our dad had taken Laura and I out to some mountain lake, and Laura was supposed to be watching me, but there was a blonde boy in the cabin next door that she was very interested in. I ended up capsizing the canoe and I had to walk all the way back wet, dragging the boat behind me,” he recalled almost fondly. Dean snorted.

They laughed together and swapped childhood stories for a while until Stacy came in from a job interview. She went immediately to Castiel’s room, because that was where Dean practically lived now.

“Sorry to bust up your brofest, but you’ve taken enough of Dean’s Saturday’s from me, Uncle Cas. We’re going on a date. Like now. Capische?” She said, an irritated slant to her mouth. Dean felt a wash of disappointment- he’d been having a good time, even if the day had contained more chick-flick moments than Stacy’s favorite romantic comedy.

He should want to hang out with Stacy, however, so he mustered up as much enthusiasm as he could and said, “Yeah, sure.” He hauled himself off of the sofa and chirped a goodbye to Castiel, avoiding looking right in the man’s eyes because if they started the whole staring bit, Stacy would just get more irritated than she obviously already was.

They went to a movie, which Dean actually tried to watch until Stacy got so irritated with him that she left a quarter of the way through the movie and didn’t return until well after the midway point.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean whispered when she plopped back into the seat next to him.

“I could ask you the same thing- wait no, I already know the answer. Where’s Dean? Oh, yeah, probably spending hours upon hours with his girlfriend’s uncle. You know, instead of, I don’t know- with his girlfriend.”

Dean looked at her, incredulous. “Okay, yeah. I hang out with Cas a lot, but he’s a cool fucking guy okay? Not to mention that, hey, sometimes doing nothing but making out with your girlfriend gets a little old, Sweetheart,” he snarled defensively. His relationship with Cas had nothing to do with her.

The moment after he thought that, a realization hit him like a brick wall. He had fucked up so bad. Fantasizing about her mom had been bad enough. As a matter of fact, it hardly seemed ‘bad’ at all compared to this.

He had fallen in love with Castiel Novak.

A series of explosions was going on in his mind- a chain of panic that was so potent he could feel it tingling in his toes. It was all he could do to keep a neutral face.

“Whatever, Dean,” Stacy snapped before turning to the movie. He didn’t think she knew.

He turned slowly back to the screen.

He was so fucked.

* * *

 

After his abrupt realization, Dean had made a plan to tell Stacy after the movie. He would take her to dinner and he would tell her. And he meant to, he really did, but when the credits had rolled and the lights came back on, Dean ran away. Not literally, of course, but he quietly drove Stacy home and hauled ass back to his house, where he holed himself up in his room.

He was mad at himself for fucking up. He had practically let himself fall for Castiel, he hadn’t even tried to stop himself from growing close. And the worst thing? He wanted to tell Castiel about how much he had fucked up, tell him how he had done Stacy wrong. Dean curled up on his bed, thinking about it. Castiel would frown but lay a reassuring hand on his back. He wouldn’t fix it, only Dean could do that, but he would provide support, and that was all anyone would ever be able to ask for. And after Dean had spilled his heart out, maybe he’d lean up and take Castiel’s face into his hands, and maybe he’d press a soft kiss to the delicate bow of his mou-

No. Wrong.

Dean made a point of avoiding all of the Novaks for as long as he could, which wasn’t really hard ever since he’d picked up a job at an auto repair shop. Wednesday came sooner that he wanted, though, and he wasn’t going to bail on his mowing job because he was lovelorn (Oh God. Did he really just use that word?). Still, he drove about 10 miles under the speed limit. No need to rush into his demise.

As luck may or may not have had it, it seemed that no one was home. The driveway was empty and the windows were dark. Dean fished the garage key out of the potted plant on the porch and pulled the mower out.

He had been working for about an hour when a gravelly voice startled him, “You missed a spot, Dean.”

“Shit! Cas- what are you doing here? I thought no one was home, the driveway wa-” he nearly choked when he turned around, because Cas was standing on the porch with nothing but a towel around his waist. Dean knew his eyes must have bugged out, and he couldn’t stop himself from dragging his eyes down Cas’ bare chest. Forget Laura’s bosom, because Cas’ chest? Yeah, that was _made_ to have whipped cream licked off of it.

Cas’ face grew red when he saw Dean’s eyes drift down his chest, to his crotch, and said, “Ah… I forgot I wasn’t wearing anything,” he said lamely, ducking his head. His ears were burning red. Dean imagined his own face was the same ruby shade- and it definitely didn’t help that his pants had gotten a little bit tighter. Shit.

He snapped his head away, looking at the grass, the sky, the house down the road, anywhere else. “Yeah uh, no big deal,” huge deal. Enormous. “So uh-” Dean said, trying to stop thinking of what was under Cas’ towel long enough to come up with something coherent to say.

“I uh, I was mowing,” he finished lamely, his face somehow burning even hotter. God, could he be any more obvious? He risked a glance back at Castiel, who was definitely not just raking his eyes over Dean, because that? That would be catastrophic to trying to subdue his arousal that was becoming more and more painfully obvious. Luckily he was able to hide his crotch behind the mower.

Cas’ face blazed up again at being caught, but his eyes caught Dean’s and they didn’t turn away from each other. He didn’t know how long they stared at each other, but it felt like a ridiculous amount of time. When another spark of interest shot down to his crotch, however, Dean coughed and broke the eye contact.

Castiel blinked, as if he hadn’t realized the extreme eye contact had even been happening. “Right, well, you should come inside and eat, Dean.” He said and turned tail and scurried back inside.

Dean let out a breath of relief and took a few moments to calm his traitorous crotch before pushing the mower aside and clambering into the house. Much to his relief, Cas had clothed himself and was digging in the fridge, pulling out a tupperware container that contained a thick stew. There was an awkward silence when they first started eating, but it quickly melted away, and before they knew it they were both laughing and chatting like the weird moment on the lawn had never happened.

It was odd for Dean, because he didn’t feel giddy, or lovesick, or like he was even trying to impress Cas. He just felt content, sitting there with the guy, smiling from ear to ear. He was far gone and so, so smitten. Sammy would never let him live it down if he knew just how naturally besotted Dean was with Cas.

It was sitting at that table that Dean decided that he was going to do it. He was going to tell Stacy, and then he was going to come to Cas and lay his feelings on the table. He didn’t like the hard conversations, but this feeling of bliss was worth it.

So he excused himself and called Stacy.

He met her at a diner- which was far from their usual date spots, considering the environment didn’t exactly promote furious kissing. Stacy seemed to feel awkward when she wasn’t able to glue her face to Dean’s and she fidgeted in her chair, nervously.

They both ordered a coffee, and Stacy fiddled with her straw before saying, “So? You wouldn’t have invited me to a diner of all places if you didn’t want to talk,” she said the word and an involuntary shudder passed through her spine, “so shoot.”

“I’m in love with Castiel,” Dean deadpanned. There wasn’t any reason to beat around the bush. Stacy choked on her drink.

“ _What?_ ”

“I love Castiel,” he repeated, glancing down into his coffee, “and I know that it’s really shitty of me to go and fall in love with your uncle, of all people. It should have been you, but it’s not. I didn’t mean for it to happen, Stacy.”

Stacy’s mouth had fell into a frown, and she opened her mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it again. Her eyebrows were furrowed and worry dimples were visible on her forehead.

Finally she said, “Yeah, I figured as much.”

It was Dean’s turn to choke.

“Look it really does fucking suck, Dean. I like you, and I know I never really wanted to talk, but I did- I do like you.”

“Stacy, I-”

“No, no. Let me finish. I like you but like I said, I figured as much. I mean you weren’t being very subtle about your feelings for Cas, dean. You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Damn,” Dean huffed, and Stacy’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Look, I’m gonna let you shag my uncle and you know- date him or whatever it is you want to do. I’ll get over it. So we can just consider this our official break up, though I’m pretty sure we stopped dating the moment you saw his stupid blue eyes,” she snorted, taking a sip of her coffee and propping her head on her hand. She looked somber but resigned.

Dean sighed, “Sorry, Stace. I really am.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Go get your man, bitch.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean said and screw it- he didn’t even try to feign composure. He half sprinted to his impala and gunned it all the way back to the Novak residence. Castiel was sitting in the parlor reading when Dean burst in. He looked up, surprised by the sudden entrance.

“I’m in love with you, ya stupid son of a bitch,” Dean blurted and that was not how that was supposed to come out _at all_.

“What?” Castiel asked, his eyes widening a bit.

“I am in love with you,” Dean replied meekly, “You stupid son of a bitch?”

Castiel’s face was completely surprised, “What about Stacy?”

Dean paused, “I think we broke up a long time ago.”

Castiel blinked then stood, a smile pulling at his features, “You couldn’t think of anything more romantic then ‘son of a bitch’?”

Dean’s face was growing into a grin and he took a few steps forward, crowding in close to Castiel who tilted his his head up and parted his lips just slightly.

“Nope, I couldn’t think of another God damn thing,” Dean said, and closed the space. Cas’ lips were soft and pliant- and it was a kiss very unlike any one he had ever shared with Stacy. It wasn’t chaste, by any means, but it was slow and languid, and amazing, and he was going to be doing this a lot, lot more in the future.

And of his moral dilemmas, Cas was the best of them all.

 


End file.
